Mazrath: The Twin Blades (T)

Before Reading: Although this story takes place within an already existing fictional world, the majority of the story is original. Reasons for this is simple, the land I have chosen to use in this story has very little information about the world.

Important Information:
Astari is the ancient name for Night Elves, not sure if I explored his race yet. Next chapter will reveal more about the Astari and their society.

+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+
Chapter One: Never Again

The soft cool breeze caressed the young astari’s light gray skiined face as he perched in the tallest Greater Heartwood tree in Whisperdale. From here he could see beyond the thick grey stone walls that guarded the city from the dangers that lurk in the forest. This was his favorite spot in all of Whisperdale, a hard thing to claim in a city full of many wondrous spots. This, however, was Mazrath’s spot.

The Greater Heartwood tree was perhaps the tallest tree in the Darkwood Forest. It towered over everything at the height of 465 feet. The trunk of the tree larger than an Ogre’s belly; a whopping 24 feet in diameter. Thick sturdy branches would allow for a small ogre weighing almost two tons to easily hang. Its leaves were a rich forest green color. The size of them ranged from all sizes, from the size of a mans head to the size of a baby's fist. This was Mazrath’s favorite tree, his sanctuary.

Mazrath perched towards the top of the tree on one of the larger branches. Facing the west, he had a clear view of the setting sun. Another one of the hundreds of reasons he loved this spot; the dawn and sundown. The sky would flood with magnificent colors of reds and oranges. Every chance he got he would climb the full height and watch these shows that Mother Ulthien, goddess of life, provided for the inhabitants of Dransik

After the sun finished setting, another brilliant scene appeared before him. In the night's sky billions of twinkling stars hovered above. The Greater Heartwood tree provided the best view of the night sky; on a cloudless day it was breathtaking and inspiring.

Mazrath allowed his vision to change from his light sensing vision to his newly acquired night vision. The Astari and their cousins the Soluri have the ability to use night vision.. This nifty ability allows them to see even in the darkest of tunnels. This makes it easy for them to see in the dark as if it were a cloudy day. This ability they are not born with, they only are able to use this gift from Ulthien once they reach puberty at the age of twelve. This also does not come naturally. Night vision takes awhile before it becomes comfortable.

Mazrath surveyed the area beneath him with his soft silver eyes, trying to make out the best path down. The sight was beyond Mazrath’s ability to decipher. His eyes and head wracked with pain; his eyes welled with hot tears. Ignoring the stinging pain in his eyes, he reached up with his right hand and wiped one eye, then the other, all the while concentrating on the path ahead.

In the day, using his normal vision he could easily scale down the tree. He often flaunted this little talent of his. During the day he could jump from branch to branch heading downward, all without losing his balance. This was different, his night vision had yet to fully develop and even if it had been, he was still uncomfortable with it.

"I can do this," Mazrath muttered to himself. Taking in a deep breath he slowly stood up and walked right off the branch. With quick and precise timing Mazrath turned his body in mid air then reached out and caught the branch that awaited him. Hanging there, Mazrath quickly plotted his second move. Slowly he began to move his body back and forth like a pendulum. Then with another deep breath he let go. His back arched upward and then gently landed on particularly small branch. Mazrath sighed in relief. He had expected to over jump.

Slowly but surely the young Astari made his way down all without any problems. Now only twenty feet from the ground Mazrath was feeling too confident. His eyes still pained but were no longer teary. This time he quickly glanced at his intended landing, something he could easily have done during the day, he leapt from the branch. Immediately he felt that something was wrong, he then panicked and foolishly flailed his arms and legs. His right foot was the first to make contact with the branch, then his left. Only for a brief second though, just as fast as he decided to jump, he lost his balance. As he fell he extended his arms to try and catch the branch, instead he smashed his lower jaw on the solid branch. Pain exploded through out his head. His eyes grew blurry with tears. He struggled to maintain his grasp but he could feel his body go limp.

To him the world seemed to slow down to a mere crawl. His body refused to obey his commands. All the while he could feel each time his body connected with a branch, each with a explosion of pain bursting through his body. For what felt like a lifetime, his body tumbled down through the tree’s many branches. Then there was one final thud. There he lay both broken in body and in pride.

He laid there with complete awareness of each agonizing moment as his body screamed in pain. Not once did he scream, not because he didn’t want to, simply because his body wouldn’t allow it. It would allow for small whimpering noise accompanied by tears.

A nearby guard dressed in the traditional uniform, a maroon tunic with a chain mail shirt underneath and a chain mail coif under his sturdy steel helm, saw the terrible fall.. He stood there with a stunned expression. His first thoughts were to go for Coroner, then he could hear the weak whimpering.

"Help! Someone quick!" The guard shouted loudly, "I need a healer!" Mazrath could barely hear the guard shouting, then blacked out.

Mazrath woke up hours later, his body ached with pain. His body felt as if it had been thrashed by an ogre. Mazrath tried to sit up, but his body screamed in protest. He gave into the demands, and let his body go limp.

He struggled to remember what happened, how he wound up in this pitiful state. He opened his eyes, and scanned the room. The room was small. The headboard of his small bed faced the back wall, while his does pointed to the only door. To the left of Mazrath was a small wooden dresser, various objects were spread out across the dressers top. To Mazrath’s right he could see a night stand with a Lamp of Isos, a powerful object that gives off large amounts of light. On the wall facing the dresser, was a full length mirror with a calm smooth surface. In the mirrior he could see himself lying in the bed, his soft silver eyes staring back at him. His once smooth light gray face, was now bruised and cut.

Mazrath wished he could move, but his body forbade any such actions. He was a prisoner in his own body. The events leading up to this painful part of his young life flooded back to him. His mind showed him what happened, he could see his body falling through the tree. His mind replayed it over and over, each time he saw it from a different angle. Sometimes he saw it in slow motion, and even when time sped up. Over and over he witnessed his fall. He saw the mistake so clearly it brought back each ounce of pain.

Never again would he make the same mistake.


+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+

Comments and Criticism are more then welcome. I would love to know your opinions on the story and what you feel I am doing wrong and what I can improve on.

No idea when or how often this will be updated.

Also if you have any questions about things from the story, or just in general please ask by posting here, or by pming me.

Well no comments so far... but here is Chapter Two. The first part of the chapter might be confusing, not sure if I made the reasons why Mazrath was so stubborn as clear as i would have liked.

As always Criticism and Comments are always welcomed.

+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+

Chapter Two: Mystic Crawler.

The following week Mazrath spent in bed. Every few hours or so an inexperienced healer would tend to his wounds using various herbs; including grounded Bloodroot, a reddish root with several healing properties. Each visit only irritated Mazrath. The remedies the lesser healer used only seemed to make matters worse.

"Please you must settle down!" the healer scolded. The healer was a young female with dark gray skin. She wore a red tunic and pants. Her hair was jet black and tied in a neat bun. "You will only make the situation worse!" Her voice would have been soft and lovely, if she weren’t screaming.

"You sure you even know what your doing?" Mazrath snapped back as he wiggled his body away from the healer’s long slender hands.

"I am more than qualified!" Her tone changed from annoyance to offended. "Your lucky I even took this job!" She lunged for Mazrath’s kicking legs with her hands. "My sister said I shouldn’t lower my price for filth!" Now her voice laced with venom.

In response Mazrath struggled even harder, his body throbbed with pain but he refused to let her win. She was right of course. He was lucky she had taken the job. Mazrath’s parents could not afford a proper healer, even an inexperienced healer fresh from Whisperdale’s Healer’s Academy, would prove expensive for them. Mazrath’s father was a lowly guard, often stationed at guard posts through out the Darkwood Forest for months at a time. His mother attended to Lady Vezryl as a servant. She was the spouse of Lord Vezryl the current Noble of Whisperdale.

"That’s it, I quit!" The young healer shouted in frustration as she stormed out of the room. Mazrath felt victorious, but only for a moment. His body continued to ache with pain. Perhaps I should have let her finish her job. Mazrath thought bitterly, then smiled.

"To stubborn for my own good," Mazrath whispered into the empty room. Mazrath refused to let anyone walk over him; his parents may be willing to let others take advantage of them, but not Mazrath. Never will he allow someone to take advantage of him, or to allow someone to think themselves more worthy because of their lineage or wealth. He would prove that someday, even ‘filth’ would be worth the time of even the most experienced healer.

"You know, you really shouldn’t do that," A voice said, interrupting Mazrath’s thoughts. Mazrath slowly sat up, his older sister, Crystal, stood leaning in his doorway. She was ten years older than Mazrath. Her skin appeared silver in this lighting; her long white hair flowed over her small round shoulders. "Mother would be furious if she found out you scared away another healer." Her voice was soothing, but Mazrath knew better. Despite their families rank in the Astari Hierarchy; She turned many heads, and emptied many large wallets.

"Not as furious, when she sees what you are wearing this evening," Mazrath snapped as he eyed his sister’s outfit. Her outfit left little to the imagination. "I mean, you wouldn’t want mother to know what her daughter did…" Mazrath snickered. "So what do you charge these days?" Crystal’s eyes narrowed, as if to dare him to continue. Mazrath smiled in response. He had won. Crystal stormed off spouting curses all directed towards him.

I will probably regret this later, but it was worth it. The whole world viewed Crystal as a gift from the gods. Always acting sweet and innocent when their parents were around. To the men, she was an object of lust, something she used to her full advantage. Everyone thought she was so great, but Mazrath and perhaps a few men with broken hearts, knew better.

Mazrath lay in bed thinking, about the only thing his broken body would allow him. His thoughts were of the future, his future in particular. He spent the rest of the day in a blissful state..

The next morning Mazrath’s mother visited before she left for her duties to Lady Vezryl. She had a slender build with short silver hair. She wore a black dress, with a white Bonnet. Her soft grey eyes grew teary at the sight of her youngest child in such a condition.

"Why must you refuse treatment?" She asked softly as she sat on the bed. Mazrath stared at her, wondering what to say. "The faster you heal, the sooner you can get out of this cramped room." Mazrath continued to stare. He knew deep down she was right.

"I’m fine," Was all that he could say. His mother sighed, and rose to her feet, then left the room, closing the door behind her leaving Mazrath to his thoughts.

That afternoon Mazrath got out of bed. Slowly walking he made his way towards his dresser. He pulled out a forest green tunic and pants. He then buckled his dagger onto his waist and stormed out of the room. His body ached and throbbed with pain as he left the house. Mazrath took in a deep breath, relaxed his body, and exhaled.

"Maybe I need to remind my body why I need it." Mazrath said aloud feeling foolish. Mazrath looked around, and wasn’t pleased with what he saw. Mazrath lived around the outer wall of the vast city of Whisperdale. These were the slums of Whisperdale, a place Mazrath had known his whole life. His father had joined the City Guard in hopes of moving into the city. Instead he was sent across the Darkwood forest to be an outpost guard. His mother became a personal assistant of Lady Vezryl in hopes of pleasing her just enough to move into the city.

Mazrath wandered around the many homes. Each sheltered a family with a similar story and lifestyle. Mazrath looked away each time he saw a young Astari child in rags, with no more than a loaf of stale bread to eat. Life was rough within the slums of Whisperdale. How he yearned to go to his spot, his sanctuary. His body wouldn’t even entertain the thought.

Mazrath left the slums, and entered the untamed Darkwood Forest. Despite the many guard patrol’s, the forest thrived with monstrous creatures. Mazrath had been told time and time again to never enter the forest alone. Until that day he had listened to the horror stories and obeyed his parents rules. Something was different today. Since his injury his spirit had been restless, perhaps it was the thought of never going up against a challenge? Mazrath threw away such thoughts.

The Darkwood Forest flourished with colossal sized trees, some twice the size of that of Mazrath’s Sanctuary. Only the Astari and Soluri could truly thrive within these conditions for so long. Only the elves had natural ability to travel through the forests thick undergrowth so efficiently. Humans, and even orcs, could hone their bodies in a way that rivals even the most experienced Astari. This of course only achieved through years of intense training. New comers found the spectacle of the forest intimidating. To Mazrath, the Darkwood Forest was a playground.

Mazrath walked through the forest, admiring its beauty. The sun’s light pierced through the many gaps within the tree’s leafs, giving the area a surreal look and feel. Mazrath enjoyed every minute within the forest.

In the near distance, Mazrath’s keen ears picked up on the rustling of a bush. Before his mind could begin to come up with possible reasons, his hand quickly went to the dagger sheathed at his side. Slowly he unsheathed the blade. Then he could hear the rustling again from a different direction.

Mazrath’s heart beat quickened, but not from fear but with excitement of a challenge. The adrenaline rush eased the pain of his broken body. He slowly moved around, to evaluate the area. The area was free from any obstructions. The area was perfectly flat.

Then Mazrath’s heart missed a beat. All around him the underbrush began to shake violently. Mazrath gripped his dagger with his life. "Well come on then!" Mazrath shouted. The shaking of the underbrush only worsened. With his left hand, Mazrath wiped his brow and took a deep inhale to calm his excitement. Do not get too cocky now

"Quit hiding and show yourselves; you cowardly weaklings" Mazrath shouted. When he said it, four white spider’s the size of a wolf crawled out. Their red eyes glowed ominously; a clear substance slowly dripped from the creatures large greedy fangs. Before Mazrath could react they had circled him. Each poised to attack at seconds notice.

Mazrath had heard of such spiders, Mystic Crawlers. Their webbing was dangerously sticky and proved nearly impossible to free from. Their poison refused to kill its opponent, but instead would slowly destroy the victim’s body tissue, a painful process.

Mazrath twirled his dagger in his hand and leapt at the spider in front of him. He thrust his dagger out, but the Mystic Crawler, with lightning speed reflexes, dodged the pitiful attack by jumping sideways. Mazrath last balance and came crashing to the earth forcing a scream to burst from his lungs.

Trying to regain his balance, Mazrath slowly rose from the ground. From behind he could hear the sinister clicking of poisoned fangs A feeling within Mazrath told him to move. Not one to disobey them, he ducked to the ground and rolled sideways. As his body came to a halt, he heard the sickening sound of acid tearing through a tree. Mazrath’s heart beat tripled. He could feel the cold sweat of death collect on his brow. His dagger’s handle became moist with sweat. This is how it ends Mazrath thought bitterly.

He calmed himself, rose from the ground and turned around. Instead of four Mystic Crawlers, there were now eight. Mazrath held onto his dagger with his life. "Facing death at the age of twelve" Mazrath said aloud. Before the Mystic Crawlers could comprehend what the young Astari meant, Mazrath dashed straight into the maws of the venomous creatures.


+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+

Will our young hero win against such a large group of enemies or will he die?

Suspense!

Hopefully I will get Chapter 4 out soon... because the suspense is even killing me!

its good so far. hope to read the next chapter soon.

Thanks, the next chapter should be out soon

yay!! cant wait!!

Chapter Three: Tazryl.


Tazryl’s brow dripped with sweat. His muscles ached from the days labors. He placed his lumberjack axe against one of the various piles of logs. Tazryl sighed, and probed his mind for the connection. His mind flooded with voices; some he recognized easily, while the others were foreign.

‘I’m telling you the truth! I was standing at the gates of hell, demons and hell spawns-‘ Thamian proclaimed proudly.
‘Hell doesn’t have any gates.’ Thorn said casually.
‘How the hell do you know?’ Thamian shot back.
‘Forlya, the logs are ready for transport.’ Tazryl thought calmly, ignoring the argument between Thorn and Thamian.
‘Tazryl, how goes the logging going?’ Thamian said teasingly.
‘Fine.’ Tazryl said using a tone that hinted his losing of patients. ‘You guys know what Forlya is at? She's supposed to help transport these logs.’
‘She was just here a minute ago,’ thorn said. ‘Wait, here she is.’
‘Sorry Tazzy, I was preoccupied.’ Forlya said. Her voice, or at least her thoughts, sounded peaceful. ‘where are you at now?’ Tazryl pictured his surroundings with his mind, and sent it through the connection allowing Forlya to see where Tazryl now rested. ‘Got it, thanks’

Tazryl closed the connection, ceasing all voices leaving him to his own thoughts. The connection was a way for people of a powerful organization to communicate through telepathy. This allowed for conversations to take place from across the land of Dransik instantaneously. The downside while being connected; you could hear every conversation taking place within it. Tazryl had yet to learn how to dull the other conversations out from the ones he was participating in.

Tazryl scanned the area for any wildlife. After several long minutes, he plopped down on the ground and relaxed his body. He slowly closed his eyes and began to listen to the symphony of the forest; the soft babbling of a nearby creak, the soft chirping of birds nearby singing to the glorious afternoon. The silent but distinct sounds of rustling trees. All of these unique sounds blended into one single composition, the symphony of the forest.

Several long minutes past, when he heard a new sound. At first Tazryl passed the new sound off as a new addition to the forest's symphony. It was not until a scream shattered the illusion. Tazryl jumped from his spot and dashed into the direction of the screams. Tazryl jumped onto a low branch and made his ascent up into the canopy. Tazryl masterfully leapt from branch to branch. With such speed, an observer would have mistaken Tazryl for flying.

Tazryl arrived at a small clearing. A lone male Astari stood at the center of the clearing. In his right hand he could see a small dagger drenched in green blood. Seven Mystic Crawlers slowly crept towards the young boy. A mystic crawler lay down in its own green blood at the foot of the young astari.

***

Mazrath yanked his dagger from the Mystic Crawler; green blood gushed from its body. The adrenaline of his first kill washed away the pain from his left leg, that now threatened to buckle. Panting heavily, Mazrath limped over towards the Mystic Crawlers.

"Wait!" Tazryl shouted. Mazrath looked up at where the voice came from. Standing on a small branch, was an Astari male clad in crimson red leather chest plate and leather leggings. He had a slender but muscular build with short black hair. On either side of his hips were two sheathed swords both having a ruby encrusted pommel. Mazrath had the distinct impression that they could have been almost twin’s if he had been older.

Mazrath watched the unknown warrior reached towards his sheathed sword. Never had he seen a skilled warrior at work. Even the Mystic Crawlers seemed transfixed on Tazryl. Instead of unsheathing his swords, Mazrath saw that he pulled out three small daggers.

A Mystic spider snapped out of its transe and leapt at Tazryl. Mazrath could have been blind and still tell that Tazryl smiled. Tazryl threw one of the daggers at the Mystic Spider, hitting him in the mouth. The spider let out a shrill scream that sent shivers down Mazrath’s spine. Now the Mystic Crawlers had forgotten about Mazrath. Focusing their attention on Tazryl they scattered and ran into the underbrush.

"Ha! I knew they were weak." Mazrath shouted teasingly. Tazryl wanted to smack the kid for being so naïve. Just then Three acid bolts shot towards Tazryl, but he was expecting it. Tazryl stepped backwards off the small branch. At first Mazrath thought the unknown warrior had been hit, but he was wrong. Tazryl landed, like a cat, on his feet. Another shrill scream rang through the area.

"Gross, I got spider blood on my new boots!" Tazryl exclaimed with a smile. Just as quickly as Tazryl arrived, he disappeared. In the distance He could hear the on going battle; the sounds of acid burning through the trees and the constant screaming of the Mystic Spiders. All the while Mazrath stood there, ignoring his legs torments from the Mystic Crawler’s poison.

Moments later Tazryl returned to the clearing to find Mazrath on the cold ground. "Damn kid," was all that Tazryl could say. Mazrath eyed the warrior carefully, despite that he saved him he couldn’t be trusted. Mazrath had heard tales of bandits kidnapping people just after saving them from death. Then a smile crept on his face. Let him kidnap me. He wont get a damn gold piece for me.

Tazryl walked over and kneeled down. Firmly, he grabbed the leg that had been poisoned. Mazrath took a peak and saw the poisoned flesh, black and withered.

"You got lucky," Tazryl said calmly as he began to search for something. "If I hadn’t been logging in the area you would be dead." Mazrath continued to watch Tazryl’s every move.

"What are you looking for?" Mazrath finally said, the curiosity burning his insides.
"Bloodroot" Tazryl said over his shoulder as he began to dig through the dirt. "Don’t worry I know what I am doing." He said trying to comfort Mazrath. "What’s your name kid?"

"Mazrath," He said silently.
"Nice to meet you Mazrath, the name is Tazryl" Tazryl said confidently. "Found it! Now eat some of this."
"What for?" Mazrath said eyeing the bloodroot carefully, dirt clung to it jealously.
"It helps the healing process." Tazryl replied. He tore some of it off and gave the smaller piece to Mazrath. The larger piece he began to press it together with the palms of his hand, blood red juice slowly poured from the root. He then took a small piece of cloth from a small bag from his belt. Then he wrapped the cloth around the now leaking blood root. "There instant blood bandage." Tazryl said proudly, "Well normally you would boil this, but you are on borrowed time as is. Please eat the bloodroot." Tazryl said.

Mazrath placed it all in his mouth. The taste was bitter and tasted like dirt, and swallowed it. Mazrath could then feel a cold substance placed around his wounded leg. The pain slowly evaporated. He wasn’t sure if it had been the bloodroot he had eaten or the blood bandages that Tazryl was now applying to his now black and withered leg. Only it was no longer black nor withered. Slowly it was regaining its normal tone of light gray.

"That’s amazing!" Mazrath exclaimed in excitement. The fear of losing his leg vanished.
"Not over yet kid," Tazryl said. "You will need to see a proper healer before you can use that leg for anything other then walking." Tazryl rose from the ground and stretched.
"Guess I am walking then," Mazrath said sadly.
"What do you mean? You will be running and jumping in no time." Tazryl said confidently.
"Parents can’t afford a proper healer, last one I had took a week just to ease the pain some." Mazrath said sitting up. Tazryl was confused, except for the leg everything seemed to be fine. "I fell from a tree, the tallest one in Whisperdale." Tazryl needed to hear no more than that.
"Did the same thing around your age." Tazryl said. "So you live in the slums then?" Mazrath nodded.

Tazryl probed his mind for the connection.

‘Tazryl where the hell are you?’ Forlya screamed. ‘I caught a couple rogue orcs trying to steal the lumber.’
‘Long story,’ Tazryl replied, ‘Thamian you still stationed in Whisperdale right?’
‘For the next couple weeks, why?’ Thamian replied annoyed.
‘Look, there’s a nest of Mystic Crawlers near the Whisperdale borders.’ Tazryl said, ‘A kid was nearly killed. I need you to send word to the Captain of Guards about this.’
‘What happened to the kid?’ Forlya demanded.
‘Left leg has been poisoned, almost healed but needs a proper healer fast if he ever wants to use that leg again.’ Tazryl’s said grimly.
‘Got it, where are you?’ Forlya said.
‘Just west of where you should be.’

"Hey, why did you go all quiet like that?" Mazrath demanded. Tazryl lost connection, shook his head and looked around.
"Sorry, was contacting friends." Tazryl replied.
"How’s that?" Mazrath asked curiously.

Tazryl explained everything about the Connection. How it allowed for powerful groups to communicate instantaneous with each other.

"Wait what makes you and your friends so special then?" Mazrath said.
"Oh right, I am Lieutenant in the organization known as the Astari Guard." Tazryl said.

Moments later Forlya arrived at the scene. She had a very slender build with a gorgeous figure. Her skin was a soft golden tone, her hair long and golden. She was Soluri, cousins to the Astari. She wore dark purple armor made of a material unknown to Mazrath. In her left hand she held a wand with a blue stone at its tip.

"Greetings Forlya," Tazryl said.
"Hey Tazzy!" Forlya said. "This the kid?"
"Hey I have a name!" Mazrath snapped. "Mazrath, and you are?"
"Forlya at your service," She said kindly, her voice soft but commanded respect. She then began to chant in a language neither Tazryl or Mazrath could understand. A circle around her began to glow a soft light green. Then rays of light rose from the ground encircling her. The chanting ceased, but the lights did not stop. Instead the closed in on her, and her body absorbed the light.

"What’s she doing?" Mazrath asked.
"Watch." Was all that Tazryl would say.

Forlya knelt down and touched Mazrath on the cheek with her soft slender hand. Then like a jolt every ounce of pain ceased. His body felt refreshed as if he had never fallen from the tree, as if he had never walked into the forest. He felt the presence of peace, true peace.

"How you feel kid?" Tazryl said.
"Like…" Mazrath stammered.
"You were in the Gardens of Ulthien." Tazryl said before Mazrath finished.
"exactly."

Forlya was now panting and taking in large gasps of air. She slowly rose from her spot and smiled, "Call of the Gods, and incredibly powerful healing spell." She said softly. "It takes a lot out of the caster, but useful when in a pinch." Forlya then turned to Tazryl. "We really need to get those logs to Autumn."

"All right." Tazryl said. "Mazrath, simply run south of hear, you will find a road. Follow that road west and you will arrive at Whisperdale."

"Thanks for helping me." Mazrath said realizing he had not thanked him for what he has done.
"Don’t worry, its what we are here for." Forlya said smiling.
"Just one thing before you go," Mazrath said. "I thought only Astari were allowed in the Astari Guard."
"Well that’s how it was traditionally, but since the return of the Soluri we have opened the admissions to both races." Tazryl said.
"Oh." Mazrath said.

They said their farewells and just as quick as they had come, Tazryl and Forlya had left. On the way home, Mazrath found two sticks roughly the same size. All the way home he slowly pictured himself standing next to Tazryl fighting along side each other, both wielding two swords while fighting off a swarm of evil creatures.
+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+==+

The whole idea of leaping and jumping through the trees was kinda stolen from Naruto. It looked cool and all so I have applied it to my story. It just sort of worked well with my vision of the Darkwood forest, a place with gigantic trees.

Hopefuly it wont take to long before I am finished with chapter 4